Innocent Until Fried

Poem on capital punishment for English.

“I didn’t do it,” screamed the witness.

The judging jury respectfully disagreed.

The gabble beat down with disappointment,

As the powdered wig in the room called out “guilty”.



The public heard the story,

Straight from the presses,

Hot in their hands.

They jumped with joy,

Like a kid with a brand new toy.



Behind bars,

The man still insisted,

His innocence.

He didn’t do it-

He couldn’t have done it-

He had loved his wife-

He was going to fry.